


In Which Jared Makes A Realisation And Jensen Isn't Nice

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Airports, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Open Relationships, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-10
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's pretty sure he's never met anyone so inoffensive in his life, and the fact that he can think all this stuff and not be resentful or mocking about it is testament to the guy's charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got hung up on this one scene from a previous story, which didn't actually happen, but it wouldn't get out of my head. Then I listened to a particular Big & Rich song and that just made it worse, so ... here, have some sugar-free, caffeine-free, poptart porn.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://nigeltde.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nigeltde.livejournal.com/)**nigeltde** for marvellous nitpicking. :)  
> 

The thing nobody seems to get about Jensen is that under the pretty face and the actor persona, he's a gentleman. Oh sure, he's a _guy_ \- beer and sports and pissing contests over just about anything you could name - but Jensen's got another layer to him where most guys stop. Jared thinks maybe it was the way he was raised, maybe his grandma's influence or the church or something else that stuck, but whatever the cause, if you scratch Jensen's shiny surface, you'll find a ton of good manners underneath.

Jensen's polite to people. He holds elevator doors open for overloaded shoppers and lets old ladies cut in line for a cab. He puts giggling girls at ease and ends up with their boyfriends buying him drinks. He's so nice he makes some Canadians look like howling barbarians, for crying out loud. Jared's pretty sure he's never met anyone so inoffensive in his life, and the fact that he can think all this stuff and not be resentful or mocking about it is testament to the guy's charm.

So when he finds himself balls-deep in Jensen's ass in a Heathrow airport restroom, Jensen riding his lap and biting his shoulder hard enough to bruise, moaning the filthiest, hottest things he's ever heard, he's got to wonder:

_What else have I been missing?_

* * *

"An hour?" Jared stared at the departure board as if that would make it change. "No _way_."

"Delays happen," Jensen said from his left. "Look on the bright side; now we have time for coffee."

"I don't want coffee," Jared said, though he kind of did. "I want to get home. I miss my dogs, man. And I have _got_ to clean up my place before we go back to work, or I'll have to kiss my TV remote goodbye and rely on you for entertainment."

"An hour isn't going to make a difference in the long run. It's a few million more bacteria living in your fridge, that's all. And your TV remote is on top of the TV, moron." Jensen nudged his shoulder. "Come on, I need caffeine."

Jared sighed and followed him to a nearby cafe, watching as he snagged an abandoned newspaper from an empty table and turned to the sports section. He didn't seem worried about getting back late; he was sprawled in his chair, whistling the melody from 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. When the waitress came over to take their order, Jensen looked up and smiled, as far as Jared could tell, in complete sincerity.

"Espresso, please," Jensen said, "and a double latte for my cranky friend."

Jared made a 'ha-ha' face at him and turned to the waitress, but she was fixated on Jensen's smile, her eyes already going glassy. Jared supposed that was fair enough. It was a nice smile. Attractive. Sexy even, if you went for the shy nice-guy type.

He watched Jensen charm the waitress without even trying, and knew that when the check came, there'd be a phone number written on it. It happened all the time, but Jensen never said anything, and he never took up any of the offers as far as Jared knew. Not that Jared took much notice, but still, the law of averages alone should ensure that Jensen hooked up once in a while, right? Except Jensen wasn't that guy; he didn't do random hookups with strangers, especially if the girl took the lead. Jensen was the old-fashioned type. A walking anachronism. He'd probably be right at home in a linen suit with a glass of iced tea.

It was kind of sweet, if you thought about it.

Also, a hell of a turn-on.

Jensen turned to him when the waitress left, his expression already telegraphing 'HELP ME' before he opened his mouth.

"What?" Jared asked. "I wasn't listening. What's the matter? Don't tell me their machine's broken or something, because I really want that coffee now."

"She. Um. Asked me ..."

Jensen swallowed, a flush rising over his face. Jared's interest in the conversation skyrocketed; Jensen only blushed like that when he was really embarrassed, and that meant free entertainment for Jared.

"She asked you what?" he prompted.

"She asked me if ..." Jensen coughed and ducked his head. "If I'd ever had sex in an airport. And ... did I want to."

Jared stared at him in awe. This was - this was fucking _incredible_. This was a whole new level of charm - no, wait, this was _beyond_ charm, this was a fucking _porno_. Jensen Ackles, the God of Fuck. If Jared didn't know better, he'd be jealous. Hell, he _did_ know better and he was still jealous.

"Dude," he breathed, leaning forward. "What did you say?"

"What do you think I said?" Jensen darted a look at him and then away, raking a hand through his hair. "I said no. I'm not going to have sex with a total stranger, for God's sake. Especially not--"

He didn't finish the sentence, just blew out a heavy breath and started shredding a paper napkin. Jared felt sorry for him amidst all the raging jealousy and other thoughts he was currently ... not thinking. At all. Because they were _friends_.

"No, of course you wouldn't," he said. Then he grinned, and nudged Jensen's foot under the table. "But have you ever?"

"Have I ever what?" Jensen asked, looking up. He saw Jared's grin and flushed brighter, jerking his feet away. "Oh, screw you, Jared. Some of us have standards, you know."

"I know you do. Plus the whole airport thing is so _eighties_ ," Jared sighed. Jensen threw a straw at him, which he ducked, and then he heard himself saying, "So where's the weirdest place you _have_ had sex?"

" _Jared!_ "

"Kidding, ass." Jared watched the waitress slip into the kitchen, her face like thunder. "You're a man of infinite courage and restraint, my friend." And that woman had more guts and balls than Jared would ever have, but then he got to see Jensen every day and she didn't, so maybe he wasn't so gutless, because who in their right mind would want to fuck that up?

"Are you telling me you would've taken her up on it?" Jensen asked. He sounded equal parts incredulous and ... was that curiosity? Jared sneaked a look at him through his bangs. Curiosity. Definitely.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I mean, maybe not her specifically, but if the right offer came along..."

Jensen stared at him for a full thirty seconds without saying anything. Jared shifted in his chair.

"Look, it's not that big a deal," he said finally. "People do it all the time; that's why it's a cliche, for God's sake."

"You aren't people," Jensen said, which was a really nice thing to say, possibly, but then he said, "but, I mean, Sandy?" and Jared shifted again. This hour was taking a really long time. Like, a week and a half.

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, fiddled with the straw, cleared his throat in a vain attempt to make Jensen forget the question. When he looked up, Jensen hadn't moved.

"Uh, me and Sandy," he paused to clear his throat again, "we aren't exactly, uh, _exclusive_ , Jen."

Jensen's face went absolutely blank. It was like magic, except for the part where it scared Jared senseless. He knew how Jensen was about relationships, which was why he hadn't said anything until now. Aside from anything else he might or might not be thinking or feeling about the guy, Jensen was his best friend, and he didn't want to ruin that. But then Jensen blinked and went right back to normal, and Jared wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing, and had he been hiding this all that time for no reason, and if so, what the hell did that mean? He exhaled a careful breath and waited for Jensen's reaction.

"Huh." Jensen shook his head, looking around. "Where the hell is our coffee?"

"I think you kissed all chance of coffee goodbye when you turned down the waitress," Jared said. "We'll have to go somewhere else."

Jensen sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed, chewing on his lip. Jared sat across from him and tried really hard not to watch.

"That's stupid," Jensen said after a minute. "Why on earth would she think I'd do that anyway? Do I look like the kind of guy who'd – who'd—" He waved a hand around inarticulately.

"Screw a strange woman in a semi-public place without even knowing her name?"

"Yeah! That. Well, her name is Mandy, it's on her blouse. But the question stands." Jensen sat forward, his face intent. "Do I come across like that?"

Oh, hell. Talk about a leading question. Jared squirmed, wanting to give an honest answer without a) hurting Jensen's feelings and b) letting on how horny the conversation was making him. Getting Jensen to talk about sex at all was a rarity; having him demand that Jared rate his approachability was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. A rabid bull. In the midst of a steroid rage.

He'd be better off performing brain surgery. On himself.

"Not to me, man," Jared said, crossing his fingers under the table. "But I know you. To your average random person-on-the-street ... I dunno. Maybe." He shrugged. "You must be telegraphing something, or it wouldn't keep happening."

A nice, vague answer. The kind a disinterested guy would give. It bore no resemblance to the answer he wanted to give, which was something along the lines of, _You come across like the hottest piece of ass ever to walk the earth, if you really want to know, and most of the time you're not doing anything but sitting there breathing, and people fall in lust and throw themselves at you just on the off chance that they'll get lucky. And I'm getting sick of it, so what say we go somewhere and I'll show you what you've been turning down all this time, only I'll do it so good you won't want to take up any offers, anywhere, ever?_

He watched Jensen mull over his words, trying to remember what he'd thought when he first saw him. Well, aside from, _Holy mother of God_ and _Christ, he's got pretty hands_. He remembered thinking Jensen was - surprise - a nice guy, quiet until you got to know him but then crazy in the same goofy way that Jared was sometimes. He remembered looking at Jensen and thinking, very firmly, _Friends. You are going to work with this guy, and you are going to be friends with him, and that's it. Friends._ He remembered the first time they got drunk together at his place, and Jensen fell asleep on the couch and apologised in the morning. He remembered wanting to kiss him then, after only two weeks, and knowing that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

After a year, Jared still wanted to kiss him, but now there was a hell of a lot more on the list.

He came out of his reverie to find Jensen gazing at him, a speculative look in his eyes. Jared raised his hands.

"What?"

"Did you ever think that about me?"

Oh, God. Hello, conversational quicksand. Jared dragged his gaze back to the table and copied Jensen's shred-the-napkin routine.

"Not ... exactly," he hedged. "Not like _that_." He jerked his head, indicating the waitress, keeping his eyes on his hands.

"Then how, exactly? Jared, look at me."

Jensen's voice wasn't hard; it was demanding. Insistent. Not a familiar tone. Jared closed his eyes briefly, praying for guidance. _Friends_ , he repeated. When he looked up, Jensen's eyes were locked on his face.

"Do we have to do this?" Jared asked. "It doesn't make any difference now."

"Then it doesn't matter if you tell me," Jensen replied, unmoving.

Jared began to rethink his whole 'nicest guy on the planet' theory.

"Look," he said abruptly. "Okay, all right? Maybe for a couple of days back when we met I thought, yeah, he's just a guy, like any other guy, and therefore, hypothetically speaking, you would conceivably take someone up on the offer of - well, _that_." He mimicked Jensen's handflap. "But then I got to know you, and I realised that's not something you'd do. And that's good, man, that's admirable. I was just teasing before, okay? Like I said, it's no big deal. That goes both ways, man - whether you do it or not, it's fine."

He stopped talking then because he ran out of breath, thinking maybe that had been okay. Jensen was just sitting there looking at him, thoughtful, considering even. Jared watched him right back, daring himself to turn chicken now.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Jensen's voice was soft, almost intimate. Jared swallowed and licked his lips.

"Why ... what?"

"Why wouldn't I take someone up on an offer of random sex?"

Jared frowned, trying to read Jensen's expression. He got nothing but a calm look, Jensen clearly waiting for an answer.

"Come on, Jensen. You know why."

"I know why I wouldn't. I want to know why _you_ think I wouldn't." Jensen folded his hands on the table. "You must have a reason."

"Okay, sure." Jared blew out an irritated breath. "Because you're a nice guy, Jensen. That's it. That's my reason. You're a nice guy who respects himself and people in general too much to have random sex in an airport restroom with a total stranger who you'd never see again. What's the world coming to?" Jared threw up his hands in mock despair, ignoring the real despair hiding behind his words. Because there were times when he wished Jensen wasn't such a nice guy, and then maybe Jared wouldn't like him so much, or maybe even more than like, and maybe he wouldn't torture himself like he was doing right now.

"A nice guy." Jensen drawled the words out long. "Huh. So you think I wouldn't even consider for a second going off with some waitress or busboy or whoever to get my rocks off, because it's casual sex and I don't do that. You think I'm different from the average guy; you think I have too much respect to treat people like sex objects; and you think this is ... admirable. Did I miss anything?"

Jared only heard him as far as _busboy_ , because what the _fuck_? But it didn't matter, because Jensen was checking his watch and leaning over the table and saying in a low, heated voice,

"Half an hour. Think that's enough time for you to fuck me senseless in the men's room before we leave?"

* * *

And here they are. Jared is sitting on a closed toilet seat, pants around his ankles, fairly sure he's having a caffeine-deprived hallucination or something, because this can't be happening. Jensen's rocking in his lap, his hands wrist-deep in Jared's hair, gripping tight, his thighs straining and hips twisting up and off and down again like he's on a goddamned merry-go-round. All the while he's leaning in to take Jared's mouth in short, deep kisses that leave Jared gasping, starving for more, and all Jared can think is, _Nice guys don't do this._

He should've known that Jensen wasn't your average nice guy.

"Christ, you're huge," Jensen breathes into his mouth. "I love it. I'm not gonna walk straight for a week."

"You don't walk straight anyway, cowboy," Jared breathes back, and thrusts _up_ as hard as he can. Jensen arches his back, moaning, bearing down almost viciously, raking his hands down over Jared's chest and gripping his arms for balance as he takes control, fucking himself hard on Jared's cock. Jared grits his teeth, determined that Jensen's going to come first, sliding down a bit to get a better angle. He finds it on the next stroke; Jensen's eyes fly open and he _growls_ , grinding his ass into Jared's lap, planting his feet square on the floor, trying to spread his legs wider.

"Again, again, fuck, do that again," he chants, and Jared does it again, a long smooth push up and back, up and back, and thank God it's driving Jensen crazy because he's really not sure how much longer he can stand this. Jensen is the hottest fuck he's ever had, and Jared knows that's crass but he _feels_ pretty crass right now; crass and dirty and hot, but he's never had sex in an airport restroom either so he figures crass is okay just this once. He guides Jensen's hands to his shoulders, grabs Jensen's hips and holds him still while he fucks. Jensen growls again, one hand going to his cock, stripping it fast and hard while he moans Jared's name and calls him _love_ and _whore_ and _Jesus_. The sound of his name in Jensen's mouth like that - harsh and breathy and almost desperate - it does something to him, makes him want more. He leans up and bites that full lower lip he's been dreaming about, stabs his tongue inside that gorgeous mouth, then draws back to whisper in Jensen's ear.

"Next time," he says, "I want you on your hands and knees, while I hold you open and lick you until you scream to be fucked. Because _nice guys_ don't get fucked like that."

"Next ... time?" Jensen pants, eyes slitting open to lock on his. " _Fuck_ , Jared."

"Hope you w-weren't planning on ... oh, god - on sleeping when we-oh, fuck _me_ , Jensen, God," and suddenly all bets are off and Jared's shoving up and Jensen's slamming down, fisting his cock so fast it's a blur, and Jared can't see anything but the green of Jensen's half-closed eyes staring straight back at him.

Jared arches up so far when he comes he feels a muscle in his back twinge. He grips Jensen's shoulders, pushing him down as he thrusts without rhythm, and Jensen utters a broken-sounding cry and shudders against him, coming over his fist and Jared's stomach, collapsing forward onto his chest. Jared slumps back, heart racing, sweating like a racehorse, with Jensen laid out over him like a blanket.

Nice guys don't do _that_.

* * *

They barely make it onto the plane. Jensen's gait is unsteady, and Jared can't seem to get his shirt buttons done up right. They're wearing identical idiotic grins that cause people to double-take as they pass.

Jared can't bring himself to care. He just follows Jensen onto the plane and sits down, revelling in afterglow and pre-glow and every-fucking-thing-glow. Apparently, Jensen isn't as nice as Jared thought he was.

Hallelujah.

Jensen leans over and whispers, "Is this the part where one of us says, 'No more Mr Nice Guy'?"

He breathes in their mixed smells, the smell of _them_ , and whispers back, "Not unless you want to try out the restrooms in here."

Jensen just looks at him and grins.

END


	2. Chapter 2

They wait until they've been served with drinks, at least. Jensen figures they deserve credit for that. It's a close thing, though: Jared keeps looking over at him like Jensen's some kind of pod person/sex god hybrid, and it's making Jensen crazy. He keeps turning Jared's words over in his mind ( _we're not exactly exclusive, Jen_ ) and thinks of all the months they've known each other, working, being friends, getting close enough to finish each other's sentences. All the hugs and casual intimacies and horsing around on set. All the times he's looked at Jared with Sandy, so happy together, and felt like hitting something.

Now he thinks, _not exclusive_ , and wonders if that means they might be _inclusive_. Because ... yeah, he's thought about it. Maybe later, he'll find out if they've thought about it too.

For now, he's going to call Jared's bluff about the rest rooms, because he's never been one to turn down a challenge. Time to get rid of the nice-guy epithet once and for all.

He waits until the lights are dimmed and the rest of business class is engrossed in their newspapers and laptop-fueled stock manipulations. Jared's shifting around, getting ready to nap, and Jensen decides it's time to move things along.

Jared's eyes snap open when Jensen stands up.

"Where you goin'?"

"Mr Nice Guy wants a piss," Jensen says, and raises an eyebrow. "You wanna come along, hold my ... hand?"

Jared's already fumbling at his seat belt before Jensen stops talking. He gestures for Jared to stay put, holds up three fingers, and waits for Jared's nod before he turns away. His heart is thumping louder than the air-con in his ears, and if he doesn't get behind a closed door soon he's going to embarrass himself in front of God and everybody.

The rest room is blessedly empty, and ... really, really small. Wow. Jensen starts having second thoughts as soon as he gets in there, because he can barely fit and there's no way in hell Jared's going to squeeze in as well. They'll be lucky to get the door closed, never mind the fucking.

On the other hand ... being plastered up against Jared in a confined space while they get each other off? Not an entirely unappealing idea. A supremely fucking _hot_ idea, if Jensen's honest with himself. So, fuck it. He counts off the seconds in his head and waits.

* * *

It doesn't go well.

There's laughter and muffled groans and the touch of hands on bare skin, and Jared moans Jensen's name as they kiss and pant and stroke together. And then Jared throws his head back a little too hard and the door flies open, and Jensen's a fraction too late grabbing at him to keep him upright. They half-stumble, half-fall into the no-man's-land between the rest rooms and business class, stifling their laughter and praying to God they haven't been seen. Jared practically drags Jensen back to their seats, and it's a good five minutes before Jensen's heart calms down enough to realise neither of them have come yet.

"This is a problem," he murmurs in Jared's ear, nudging his erection. "I can't sit here for ten hours like this, man."

"I can't go back in there," Jared whispers back. "I'm traumatised. If we weren't in public I'd be sucking my thumb right now."

"If we weren't in public I'd be sucking your cock right now," Jensen says, and he can _feel_ the jolt that goes through Jared's body.

"Jesus Christ, Jensen," he hears Jared whisper, but Jensen's already doing it, shifting up to grab the blanket he's been sitting on, draping it over Jared's lap and going down to his knees. He ducks underneath, pushing Jared's legs apart, fingers working at zippers and buttons to get them both free again. His mouth is watering. He can smell Jared's cock, still strong from before, and he wants to taste.

He's done this before, but not often. He's heard all the jokes about cocksucking lips, and he's never wanted to be a cliche. Jared, though—Jared makes him _want_ to suck cock, hard and fast until his jaw aches and his mouth is overflowing.

So he does.

Afterward, he rests his head on Jared's knee and jerks himself off as quietly as he can. It's not easy—Jared's petting his hair and neck and Jensen wants those hands all over him—but he makes do with what he can get right now. And what he's getting is pretty fucking good; good enough that he shoots into his hand only a few minutes later, sinking his teeth into Jared's calf as he comes.

"Holy Mary mother of God," Jared says when Jensen settles back into his seat. "I'm going to kill you. Jesus, that was amazing."

"You can thank me later." Jensen yawns, feeling the stretch in his mouth. ""M tired now."

"Oh, I'll thank you," Jared promises. "I'm gonna show you my appreciation in all kinds of ways."

Jensen wipes his hands clean with some tissues and tucks them into the seat pocket, making a note to throw them away later. Then he pulls the blanket over his legs and leans on Jared's shoulder, post-coital sleepiness making him heavy and limp.

"Sleep now. Fuck later," he murmurs, and feels Jared's laugh rumble in his chest.

"Good plan." 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] In Which Jared Makes A Realisation And Jensen Isn't Nice | written by veronamay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9274388) by [lavishsqualor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavishsqualor/pseuds/lavishsqualor)




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